


Gunner Red

by delboyanddier



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Come Fetish, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, a little bit of a, take a shot for every time Dele smirks or Eric calls him "Delboy"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 06:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18132428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delboyanddier/pseuds/delboyanddier
Summary: Dele is wearing Arsenal red, but Eric doesn’t mind at all.Or:Dele likes wearing lingerie.





	Gunner Red

“You’re making stuff up, ain’t you?”

“That’s not how you castle, Delboy. Your king would have to be—”

They’re sat on Dele’s bed in St. George’s Park, playing chess on Eric’s phone. Eric points at Dele’s virtual pieces and tries to explain castling to his stubborn bloke of a best friend. But Dele only furrows his brow and frowns.

“You’re making stuff up, mate. I’ll google it.” Dele shakes his head and takes the phone.

“Yes, I—the person who won the last two games and doesn’t exit the app when I’m losing,” Eric sends Dele a pointed glare, “I am the one making up rules.”

“Shut up, Diet.” Dele pulls up Safari, then opens incognito on accident. Fuck, did Eric close that tab the other day—

Low moans and the sound of skin on skin reverberate from the phone and something plummets in Eric’s stomach. On the screen, a ripped bloke pounds into a slender twink on all fours who, to Eric’s humiliation, wears lingerie. A full set of cherry lingerie, to be exact. It’s as red as an Arsenal kit, complete with a see-through thong and a lacy corset.

The video, one of Eric’s favorites, usually makes something burn pleasantly in his abdomen. But now, something sinks in Eric’s stomach as he looks over at Dele, as silence stretches between them, save for the moans and slap of ass against pelvis.

“This is actually a hot video, innit?” Dele’s eyes are glued to the screen, but Eric knows it must be banter.

“Please turn it off.” Eric swallows from nervousness or arousal, he’s not sure which. In the video, the bottom, his light brown skin glistening with sweat, whimpers as the buff blond thrusts into him and lightly slaps his ass, which blooms red and makes his partner moan. 

“Look a bit like us, them two.” Dele looks enraptured and Eric can’t help but stare when Dele’s tongue swipes over his lips. Internally chastising himself, Eric tears his gaze away from the midfielder.

“This is fucking embarrassing, Del. Please close the tab.” Eric groans, hides his reddening face in his hands.

“Well, I think it’s hot. The top is right fit.” Dele bites his lips as the blond bloke drops kisses on the twink’s tattoos, leaves a trail of them on his back.

“Dele, please—Wait, you’re into this?”

“The men or the lingerie?” Dele looks at Eric, who licks his dry lips and takes a deep breath.

“Um. Either?” Eric holds his breath as Dele holds his gaze, eyebrows raised. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just studies Eric and lights him on fire with those penetrating brown eyes.

“I fancy both, Diet.” Dele smirks and his eyes return to the screen, “Especially if I get to wear the lingerie.”

“You wear—What do you wear?” Eric hates how husky and breathless his voice sounds. Dele must hear it, too, because his gaze snaps up. He places the phone on the bed and leans closer to Eric. There’s a heavy hand on Eric’s thigh and a pair of lips near his ear and Eric thinks he might be hallucinating.

“Would you like to find out?” Dele whispers and Eric can practically hear the midfielder smirking, can feel Dele’s hot breath on his neck and that’s all it takes to melt his cool composure, or what little Eric had left.

“God, Del, that’s a stupid question. Have you fucking seen yourself?” Eric groans out of embarrassment, but also arousal, especially as Dele’s hand trails higher on his thigh, nearing his hip.

“If you score in the North London derby, maybe you’ll find out what I wear.” Eric feels a nose on his jaw and fuck, he has never wanted to kiss Dele so badly.

“Like I’ll score in the derby.” Eric scoffs. He turns to face Dele and their noses are a breath apart, their eyes darting to each other’s lips and god, Eric wants to close that painful space between them. Eric starts to lean in, feels Dele’s breath on his lower lip—

There’s a _thud, thud, thud_ on the door and Eric springs back from his best friend. Dele startles as well, eyes wide for a moment. But then he saunters over to the door, reaching for the handle when he suddenly stops.

“Well, mate, you better figure out how to score.” Dele looks at Eric over his shoulder, smirking, “ Because I’d like to ride you in something pretty.” 

Then Dele flings open the door, greeting Kyle and John with an easy grin and banter, agreeing to join them for dinner. Eric, on the other hand, grips the edge of the bed with white knuckles, hoping the defenders can’t see the erection straining against his gray England sweatpants.

At dinner, Eric hopes Kyle and John don’t notice how Dele banters him off more than usual. Or how he teases Eric under the table, letting his hand linger on Eric’s knee, his upper thigh, and higher still, making Eric flush Arsenal red. 

***

A month flies by and Eric wonders if he dreamed the Lingerie Incident, as his brain now refers to it. Not much has changed between him and Dele since international break. They’re still best friends—or at least, best friends who leap into each other’s arms when their team scores during practice. Best friends whose eyes linger too long on each other in the locker room, whose hands linger on each other’s shoulders or biceps when they laugh together.

Despite the blatant flirting, they haven’t mentioned their discussion at St. George’s Park. Eric almost forgets about it (well, he pretends to almost forget about it).

But that changes during the North London derby.

In the thirtieth minute of the game, Eric’s header finds the back of the net and then the adrenaline takes over, propelling him down the sidelines as he hushes a red sea of Arsenal fans. The euphoria of the goal is short lived, however—Spurs concede two goals in a disappointing second half. Eric keeps his head down in the tunnel, in the hall, before he finally deposits his exhausted body on a bench in the locker room. And yet, even though the game is over, the battle lost, Eric still feels tense. His mind races, his pulse thunders as he remembers Dele’s words from that night at St. George’s: _If you score in the North London derby, maybe you’ll find out what I wear._

“Come to mine tonight?”

Eric jerks his head up from the crook of his elbow. He straightens his body from its slumped position and looks up at Dele, who looms over him, wearing only a towel, throwing back his shoulders and standing erect despite the loss. 

“What?”

“You did score, to be fair.” Dele smirks and his eyes glint, which makes something swoop in Eric’s stomach. Eric wonders if Dele is alluding to a certain conversation—

“You might not like the color of it after today’s match. But it's pretty.” Dele's eyes darken and he winks at Eric and fuck, they are _definitely_ talking about the Lingerie Incident.

“I’ll—I’ll be there.”

“You better.” A smile tugs at Dele’s mouth as he presses two fingers under Eric’s chin, “I don’t dress up for just anyone, Diet.” And then the midfielder saunters away, but not before throwing one last smirk over his shoulder.

Needless to say, Eric’s entire body buzzes in anticipation as the bus drives back to Spur’s facilities, a trip that feels like an eternity. When Eric hops in his Range Rover and speeds over to Dele’s, he pops a semi just thinking about Dele, about what he might be wearing or might _not_ be wearing.

But when Eric knocks on the door, Dele is, quite sadly, clothed when he flings it open. He’s wearing a hoodie and sweats because he’s “not ready yet, horny fathead.”

Eric rolls his eyes all the way up the stairs as Dele leads him to his bedroom. Dele sits him on the edge of his bed, tells him to be a “good boy” and wait. Then he disappears into the bathroom, leaving Eric to stare longingly at the door. Fabric shuffles in the master bath and thoughts of Dele, thoughts of bare skin and feathery lace, return to Eric’s mind. He’s holding back a groan—a semi strains against his jeans again—when the door clicks open. Eric looks up and he can’t breath.

Dele is wearing a red, lace teddy when he saunters out of the master bath. A stream of moonlight washes over him, illuminating his broad shoulders and muscular legs, which deliciously contrast the feminine fabric. The sheer one-piece has a plunging neckline that reveals Dele’s toned pecs, and the high-cut legs of the bodice show off his sharp hip bones, his slender waist. Eric almost moans at the sight of Dele’s pretty cock, already half hard, straining against the transparent material. 

Dele walks over to Eric and stands between his legs. Eric’s eyes dip down his body again, mesmerized by the lean muscles seemingly carved from marble, the caramel skin glowing as if it were gilded. Then he meets Dele’s gaze, who smirks down at him.

“Look good, do I?”

“It’s Gunner red.” Eric deadpans, then laughs when Dele rolls his eyes.

“Well, the bloke in the video was wearing red and that.” Dele looks away and blushes, almost as red as his lingerie. For a moment, Eric marvels at Dele, his confident and suave best friend, actually blushing. But Dele shouldn’t feel shy or embarrassed because this is so sexy, Dele wearing lingerie for him. Eric wants this man—his one weakness, his love interest, his everything—to feel unbelievably sexy and cherished.

“Hey, I’m just bantering you off, Delboy.” Eric reaches for Dele’s hips and pulls him closer, “You look amazing. You always look amazing.” Eric swallows and flushes Arsenal red himself. Brown eyes flicker up to his, absorbing the blonde’s words.

“You have no idea what I want to do to you.” Eric rasps out, staring at Dele’s long legs, his ripped abdomen in red lace, his soft smile as he leans down into Eric’s space.

“Think I might, actually. But why don’t you show me?” Dele whispers. He smells like expensive cologne and their noses are brushing together and fuck, Eric can’t wait any longer.

Eric surges forward and slots their lips together. At first, it’s a feather-light touch, just Dele’s soft lips against his. Then strong hands cradle Eric’s face, tilting his jaw to deepen the kiss. Their mouth move against each other, becoming hurried and hungry. Dele takes Eric’s lower lip into his mouth, like he’s drinking him in, likes he wants to memorize how it feels between his teeth. 

Something leaps in Eric’s abdomen when Dele parts his lips and their tongues slide together. Eric tightens his grip on the brunette’s hips, then grabs his perky cheeks, groaning when he feels warm flesh under his fingers, when he realizes Dele is wearing a thong. He palms the firm globes once, then twice before his hands slide under Dele’s thighs and drag the brunette onto his lap.

Eager hands sneak under Eric’s shirt, stroking his abs, the divots of his hips. Dele breaks the kiss and helps Eric pull his shirt off.

“You’re unreal.” Dele whispers in awe, smoothing his hands over Eric’s bare chest and biceps.

“So are you.” Eric breathes against Dele’s lips, bumping their noses together. Then they’re kissing again, Dele sliding his hands over every muscle he can reach and Eric squeezing his ass. He dips his fingers between the cheeks, letting his fingertips brush over Dele’s entrance. The younger midfielder shudders at the touch and Eric pulls back, pressing his forehead against Dele’s.

“Can I—Can I eat you out?” Eric pants and Dele looks at him a moment. He rolls his eyes, but they crease at the corners, full of light and fondness.

“Sometimes you’re right stupid. Ask the dumbest questions, you.” Dele slides off Eric’s lap and lays down on his stomach, smirking over his shoulder. 

“Hey!” Eric lightly smacks Dele’s ass, then grabs his hips and lifts them off the bed. He admires Dele like this: his round ass in the air, his face and forearms pressed into the mattress. Dele whimpers when Eric pulls the thong to one side, leans down, and blows hot air between those peachy globes. He nips and kneads the firm flesh while he runs his nose down the cheeks.

“You’re such a tease, ain’t you,” Dele exhales, then whines when Eric drags his hot tongue over his hole, “Damnit, Diet. Fuck me with your tongue already.”

“Alright, Delboy.” Eric mouths the hole, then licks it again. He traces the rim with the tip of his tongue and presses it inside Dele. Dele twists his hands into the sheets, mewling when Eric starts licking up into his tight entrance and fucking his tongue in and out. Pulling the cheeks apart more, Eric kisses his hole, rims him, and plunges his tongue inside over and over. He brings his hand down on one ass cheek, cock twitching when Dele screams his name. Then the brunette is dragging his hips away from Eric and sitting up.

“Fucking hell, Eric. Gonna make me come.” Dele reaches for his nightstand and grabs a bottle of lube. Eric crawls over to him, running a hand up and down one of Dele’s muscular thighs as the brunette settles against the headboard.

“Do you not want to come, Del?” Eric laughs out and Dele smacks him on the shoulder, then uncaps the lube and squirts some of it on his fingers. His lubed digits drift lower and Eric pulls the lacy thong away from his arsehole.

“Want to come with you inside me, idiot.” Dele breathes out, eyebrows furrowing as he presses one finger into his entrance. Eric feels his cock throb as the hole swallows the fingertip, the knuckle, then the entire digit. Tipping his head against the headboard, Dele slowly fucks the finger in and out. Dele screws his eyes shut when he adds a second digit, face concentrated but also serene, forehead shimmering with sweat. Eric wants to kiss his forehead, so he does. Then he drops kisses on Dele’s cheek, his jaw, his neck.

“So sexy, you are.” Eric breathes against Dele’s collarbone, licking a stripe up to his ear and rubbing circles into his thigh. The brunette shivers when Eric moves his hand to his cock and fondles it through the lacy teddy.

“I know I’m sexy, mate.” Dele whispers. Eric can practically _hear_ his smirk and he bites his neck, before wetly kissing one of his tattooed biceps. For a moment, it’s just the sounds of their breathing, Eric kissing slick skin, Dele adding another finger and his hole making wet noises as all three digits slide in and out.

“I think I’m ready. God, get naked, will you?” Dele tugs at Eric’s jeans with one hand, making the other midfielder laugh. Eric shucks off his pants and underwear, freeing his large, veiny cock, which smacks into his stomach. Dele licks his lips at the sight of him, then straddles Eric in one swift motion. Strong thighs and a tight ass burn against Eric’s legs and their hot breaths mingle together. Eric drags his eyes up Dele’s powerful thighs, the red lingerie, Dele’s brown eyes, wide and open. Vulnerable and beautiful. He grabs Dele’s hips as a way of grounding himself, giving in to the need to touch Dele. Because it’s the only way to remind himself this is real.

“Mate, ‘m clean if you want to, ya know.” Dele averts his gaze for a moment. Then he takes a deep breath and looks at Eric again, eyes serious and penetrating, “Fuck me raw.” Those words make something swoop in Eric’s abdomen, make his cock throb impossibly harder against his hip.

“I’m clean, too, and fuck. I want that, Del. I want you.” Eric reaches up and cups Dele’s jaw, heart melting a little when the brunette leans into the touch, then leans forward to capture Eric’s lips in a tender, but passionate kiss.

“Then be a good boy and sit back,” Dele pushes Eric’s chest so he leans back on his forearms, “And enjoy the show.” Dele winks at Eric, who rolls his eyes and blushes, and reaches for Eric’s cock, guiding it to his ass and pulling the lace thong out of the way.

Eric sucks in a breath when he feels the head of his cock sliding between those peachy cheeks. And then Dele is sinking down on his cock, chest rising and falling, eyes fluttering shut when his ass hits Eric’s pelvis. Dele places one hand on Eric’s shoulder and the other over his heart, burning Eric’s chest, making the muscle in his ribcage ache. 

When Dele clenches around his length, Eric groans and grabs one of his thighs. The other midfielder smirks, hooded eyes darkening when he lifts his hips up so only the head of Eric’s cock is still inside him.

Dele slams back down with a moan, a beautiful and broken sound that Eric wants to hear over and over again. And then Dele is bouncing on his dick, sliding up and down the thick shaft, slick skin slapping against skin. Dele leans closer to Eric, so they’re breathing the same air, licking into each other’s mouths, intertwining their tongues. The wet smack of lips and skin reverberates through the room, somehow turning Eric on even more.

Dele flies up and down Eric’s cock and Eric feels so overwhelmed by the wet heat around him, by the delicious burn of the thong that occasionally brushes his cock. When Dele slows down and his thighs start to shake, Eric grabs his hips and flips them, starts pounding the other midfielder into the mattress. Dele lets his legs fall open wider, all erratic breathing and needy cries as Eric slams his hips into him again and again.

He brings a hand up to Dele’s chest, tweaks a brown nipple through his delicious, red lingerie, and that’s all it takes for Dele to come, for his cock to spurt white streaks through the sheer lace. It only takes a few more thrusts before Eric tumbles over the edge with him and falls onto Dele’s chest, screaming his name as he comes inside the younger man.

It’s just soft breathing and rising and falling chests as Eric lays on top of Dele, both of them exhausted but sated. It should be gross, just laying on top of each other’s sweaty bodies. But Eric relishes the closeness of the moment, the feeling of his slick skin burning against Dele’s. The brunette, however, seems to think otherwise and tries to push Eric off of him.

“Get off me, fathead.”

“I already got off in you, Delboy.” Eric snickers when Dele groans at his lame joke, but he sits up and pulls out of the younger midfielder. When his cock slips out, come spills out of Dele’s puckering hole, sliding down his ass and onto the sheets, and Eric groans at the sight, collapsing onto the mattress beside Dele.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me. Look so sexy with my come leaking out of your hole.” Eric whispers in Dele’s ear, making the brunette shiver as he hooks a long leg over Eric’s thigh.

They should probably clean up the come dripping out of Dele, along with the white streaks on the front of his lingerie. But Eric’s legs feel limp, like he ran around the pitch for ninety minutes, and Dele is snuggling into his chest, wrapping his arms around the blonde, small smile on his face.

Eric loops an arm around Dele and pulls him tighter against his sweaty pecs. Sighing happily, Dele kisses his way up Eric’s chest, his collarbone, his neck.

“So, you liked that, mate?” 

“Never thought I’d like gunner red, Dele.” Eric smiles slightly, strokes the cherry red lace on Dele’s chest, “But you pull it off.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fic! I’d love to hear your feedback, both constructive comments and things you enjoyed. Let me know if you would like more lingerie fics in the future, with deledier or other pairings! Thanks for reading <3


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